Reboot
by psammeadred
Summary: Jason receives an unexpected letter from an old friend with some startling news.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: In my Odyssey universe, Accidental Dilemma never happened._

"You know, you need a bell in this place." John Whittaker tucked the bundle of mail underneath his arm and maneuvered carefully around the nineteenth-century model of the _Cutty Sark_.

"I have a creaky door. It works, and I think Whit's End has the trademark on the bell!" Jason pulled an old wooden chair out from his father's path. "Careful – watch out for the-" He winced as Whit's shins met an elaborately carved spinning wheel.

"Ouch!" Whit fell into the chair and rubbed his leg. "Next time, warn me before I tear my pant leg, will you?"

"Sorry! I've got to rearrange some stuff around here." He took the mail from Whit's outstretched hand. "That thing's a menace. I've got my own collection of bruises. Thanks for bringing me the mail – Wooton says I need an actual mailbox before he can deliver it to my new place."

"How's business going?"

"Oh, pretty well so far. Margaret Faye just bought some teacups, and Fred Porwarth cleaned out the campaign paraphernalia. I have to say, it's pretty humbling when I remember the radio ads that went along with those 'antique' campaign stickers." Whit chuckled.

"Get used to it!" He poured himself a cup of coffee as Jason idly thumbed through his mail. "Anything good?"

"Uh…not so far. Good grief, does this pool installation company have nothing better to do with their time than send me stuff?"

"I get those too – those and the cable company's fliers."

"Any kids at Whit's End planning paper mache crafts? They can use up our junk mail."

"I'll ask Connie. Maybe Penny can take them to the college." Jason continued flipping through his mail and selected a large, official-looking envelope.

"Wow, already?!"

"What is it?"

"Remember I told you about Mike and Karen Thomas? I used to work with Mike, and I'm godfather to their daughter Lisa. She was born right before I moved here. Well, she's graduating from high school next month! Wow, it seems like yesterday she was taking her first steps...right into the cat's litter box, if I remember right. Mike had a new 'Lisa story' every time we talked."

"Ah, they grow up so fast. I should know - it seems like yesterday you were - Jason?" His son had pulled out a long envelope and was staring intently at it. "You know, you have to open an envelope before you can read the letter."

"It's…sorry."

"What is it?"

"The handwriting. It's Tasha's." He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of yellow legal-pad paper. Jason gave a wry smile. "That's Tasha for you - don't waste time looking for pretty paper." As he read the short letter, suddenly his face paled. Whit frowned.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No. Stay…please." Jason swallowed hard. After finishing the letter, he handed it to his father, then turned away.

_Dear Jason,_

_I debated a long time about writing this letter. I just wanted to let you know about something that happened to me a few years ago._

_When we broke up, I had no interest in God or faith or anything spiritual. I lived in a world of lab notes, experiments, and objective data. Or so I thought. Then a couple years later, I was involved in an operation where I had to go undercover as a violinist in a community orchestra. (That extra major sure came in handy, didn't it?) It was a routine case, but after it was over, there was one last concert, and I talked my handler into letting me play it. (Sound familiar?) The piece was Theodore Dubois' "Seven Last Words of Christ." It was the third concert of the week, and I could nearly play the piece in my sleep. But something was different this time. It was as if the music had faded into the background, and all I could hear were the lyrics. I don't know if you've heard that piece, but the chorus sings "He is death-guilty; take him, take him, let us crucify him!" And in between repeating "let us crucify him," the tenor solo sings "Father, forgive them." I don't know exactly how it happened, but sometime between the fifth and seventh movements, I gave my life to Jesus._

_I'm writing this so that you know not to worry about me. I'm putting this letter in my safety deposit box to be sent to you in the event of my death. So if you're reading this, Jason, don't be sad. Know that I found God – or rather, was found by Him – and I'm safe. And I'll see you again._

_ As Donovan told you a long time ago, "Have a good life." May our God bless you and keep you._

_ Tasha_

Whit walked around the counter to put an arm around his son. Rubbing his back gently, he held his little boy close. Jason took a ragged breath.

"I wish I'd known earlier."

"I know."

"At least I know she's-" He bit his lip, then roughly rubbed his face. "Do you think Jack and Joanne would mind if J&J Antiques closed a little early today?"

"Of course not." Whit rubbed Jason's arm. "You do what you need to do."

"Thanks, Dad." Jason gave a weak smile. "I think...I need to take a walk."

* * *

Jason wandered along the lake trail, still in a daze. _We sat on that tree one time. It was such a pretty day, until the ants were all over us._ He gave a weak chuckle at the memory. _I don't think either of us had ever jumped so fast! And I was still finding ants in my jacket two days later._ Walking over to the tree, now dry and sun-bleached, he sat down and pulled out the letter. _She always did have nice handwriting._ After reading it again, he pulled out his AppleBerry. A few taps later, he was lost in music. He sat there, entranced, for nearly an hour. _I see how this could really have spoken to her._ The ending chorus sounded familiar.

_"Christ, we do all adore Thee, and we do praise Thee forever; for on the holy cross hast thou the world from sin redeemed."_

_Thank you, God. Thank you that she's with You, thank you that I know because of what You did for us, I'll see her again. God...could you just tell her I miss her?_


	2. Chapter 2

"Uncle Jason!" Tyler Thomas took a flying leap off the front porch as soon as Jason's car pulled up to the house.

"Hey, Tyler!" Jason locked the rental car, then pulled open the front gate. "How're you doing, buddy?"

"Great! Wanna see my Lego Titanic?"

"Absolutely! Let's get this ice to the kitchen first before it melts." He tousled the ten-year-old's hair affectionately. "Karen? Where do you want the ice?"

"In the sink for now. Thanks for getting the ice – our ice maker wasn't keeping up!" Karen Thomas wiped her hands on the apron, then took the bag of ice and hit it hard against the countertop.

"Good grief, Karen, has Mike been making you that mad that you have so much pent-up fury?" She smacked him playfully on the arm.

"As a clinical psychologist, it is my duty to tell you that you are a GOOFUS, Jason." She grinned and gave Jason a hug. "And it's great to see you. Lisa is so excited that you were able to make it!"

"Me too. It's been ages since I've seen you guys. Where is Lisa, anyway?"

"I think she's in the bathroom. She's STILL fixing her makeup," complained Tyler. "Why do girls spend so much time in the bathroom on fancy face paint?"

"That, Tyler, is one of the great mysteries of women." Jason deadpanned. "Well, that and how they read each other's minds."

"Mom says that's just observation and deduction."

"Your mom is a very smart lady, so I think she must be right."

"Your mom is always right," added Mike. "And very smart, especially when she agreed to marry me." He grinned and wheeled himself over to Jason. "Jason, it's good to see you." The two former agents shook hands warmly.

"Great to see you too, Mike. It's been too long." Jason leaned against the counter.

"How's your new job going? I still can't believe you're an antiques dealer."

"Me either!" laughed Jason. "It's…different. I've done an estate sale or two, which was kind of interesting. Actually, and you're not going to believe this either, I'm starting as an adjunct faculty member at a community college next fall."

"What?! Please tell me you're going to wear a sweater vest." Jason rolled his eyes.

"Why, so you can start whistling 'It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood' every time you see me? Again?"

"Now, boys, be nice. Jason was going through a tough time." Karen stacked plastic cups next to a giant balloon bouquet.

"What happened?" chirped Tyler.

"Oh, he broke up with his girlfriend." Mike chuckled. "And wore cardigan sweaters for a whole year afterwards." Jason groaned.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you, Mike?"

"Uh…nope." A clatter of footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of Lisa.

"Mom, does this eye shadow look stupid? Hi, Uncle Jason! Dad, the principal said I could reserve a seat for you."

"Hey, who are you, and where's the little kid who used to color on my reports?" Lisa ran over for a quick hug.

"Hey, it paid off. I got an art scholarship!"

"I heard! That's awesome. Congratulations."

"Lisa, are you just about ready?" asked Karen. "We need to leave soon for you to be there on time."

"Yeah, I just need my shoes. Is Aunt Tasha going to meet us there?"

"She texted me and said she needed to shower again before she was fit for human company. She should be here soon." Jason looked at Karen, then Lisa, then Mike, then back to Karen. Coherent words – or even thoughts – were escaping him. _What…I don't…did they say…did I imagine it…oh please God, if only…_

"Um…Uncle Jason? Can I get by here?" He suddenly realized he was standing between Lisa and the dooway. Shaking his head violently to attempt to clear his thoughts, he stepped aside. She passed him with a slightly confused look. Jason remained standing in the kitchen, vaguely aware that Lisa, Tyler, and Karen were leaving for the graduation.

"Earth to Jason…come in Jason…" Mike looked up at him.

"Huh?"

"I was asking if you're okay with driving me to the graduation. Hey, are you okay, man?"

"Oh, sure, of course I can take you. Uh…" Jason ran his hands roughly through his hair. "Can we talk here?" He looked around the room meaningfully.

"I did a sweep this morning. No bugs but the six-legged kind. What's going on?" Mike maneuvered his wheelchair into the living room and gestured for Jason to take a seat. Barely avoiding the TV remote and a partially finished model airplane, Jason sat down on the couch, still partially in a stupor.

"So, I got this letter—" He was interrupted by the doorbell.

"That'll be Tasha. You want to get it?" Mike paused, then wheeled back to the front door. Jason could hardly hear what he was saying to the person at the door over the pounding of his heart. The next thing he knew, he was looking directly into a very familiar pair of beautiful brown eyes. For a moment, all he could do was stare into her eyes. _I always could get lost in those eyes. _ He heard Mike talking, but he seemed a million miles away.

"Anyone want a soda while we wait?"

"Not for me, thanks," said Tasha. "Jason?" He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The corner of Tasha's mouth twitched upwards. "He might need some water, Mike."

"Sure thing." Mike chuckled as he headed back to the kitchen. "You two make yourselves at home."

Tasha, still staring back at Jason, sat down opposite him in an overstuffed red chair. He swallowed hard.

"So…it's good to see you."

"It's supposed to rain tomorrow afternoon."

"But it should be clear by nightfall. Better for stargazing."

"Friends, Romans, and countrymen, lend me your ears."

"They were all of them fond of quotations."

"All that glitters is not gold."

"Storks turn out to be but logs." The two were both standing now, pacing around the living room, each with their eyes fixed on the other.

"We sat on a bench at the park and were covered in bugs. What kind of bugs?"

"It was a tree at Trickle Lake, not a bench, and they were ants. Jason, what on earth—" Whatever Tasha was planning to say next was muffled by Jason's shoulder as he grabbed her in a bear hug.

"I'm glad you're not dead," was all he could get out.

"Well, me too…but if you don't let me breathe, I might be!" Reluctantly, he loosed his grasp. Neither noticed Mike come back with a bottle of water.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked with a wry smile. Tasha was still staring quizzically at Jason.

"I don't know. Jason, what was that all about? I mean, it's really nice of you to help me refresh my password memory, but why did you think I was dead?!" Jason took a deep breath and exhaled in a huff.

"Well, I got your letter."

"What letter?" Tasha, still very confused, sat back down on the couch. He sat down next to her, pulled out his wallet, and handed her a very worn piece of folded yellow paper.

"This one." He handed the paper to Tasha. Brow furrowed, she unfolded the letter.

"What – I don't understand. How did you get this?"

"Probably the US Postal Service?" quipped Mike. Both jumped. "Uh, I think I need to…check the fuses." He shook his head in amusement and headed back to the kitchen.

"Okay, so…about three months ago, Dad brought me this letter."

"Brought it - are you not in Odyssey anymore?"

"Yeah, I'm still in Odyssey. I bought a house that I'm fixing up, and it doesn't have a mailbox yet, so all my mail goes to Dad's house." Jason smiled. "He's going to be thrilled to hear you're okay." Suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to him. "You are okay, right? This isn't some way you were trying to tell me something was wrong, that you're sick or something?" Tasha reached out to squeeze his upper arm.

"I'm fine, Jason. And I'm so, so, so sorry about all this. It's true, I wrote that letter to put in my safety deposit box. But somehow it disappeared before I could put it in the box. I was looking all over for it. I figured it was just lost, and that would be the end of the whole thing." She sighed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you tell me when you became a Christian?" Tasha pursed her lips, then she leaned back against the couch and started fiddling with the fringe of the pillow next to her.

"I didn't want you to think I did it for you." She stopped fiddling and turned to face him straight on. "Because I didn't. I did it because it was right, because I knew – I know – that God was pursuing me and wanted me to be His." She gave a soft laugh. "He didn't exactly give me a lot of choice in the matter." Jason smiled.

"Reminds me of one of my dad's favorite poems."

"The Hound of Heaven?"

"Yeah." The two sat in silence for a few minutes, just smiling. _We must look like total idiots, but I don't care,_ thought Tasha. _I'm so, so glad to see him again._

"Are you two done with your moment? We need to head over to the school if we're going to get a decent parking spot," Mike called from the kitchen.

"He's right – we should get going. Traffic's bound to be horrendous." Tasha stood and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Coming?"

"You bet!" Jason practically bounced off the couch. As they left the house, he couldn't resist a playful swat at Tasha's shoulder. "Have I mentioned I'm glad you're not dead?" She laughed.

"I seem to remember something about that, right before my oxygen supply was nearly cut off."


End file.
